


His Toy for the Night

by evergreenshed (orphan_account)



Category: Justin Bieber (Musician), Khalil (Musician) RPF
Genre: Arizona - Freeform, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Confusion, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fanfiction, Feminism, Feminist, Fiction, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Gen, Hawaii, Honolulu, Jock - Freeform, Khalil Sharieff - Freeform, King - Freeform, Light BDSM, Longing, Love, M/M, Multi, Party, Phoenix - Freeform, Queen - Freeform, Royalty, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Sports, athlete, daddy - Freeform, girlboss, groupie, snapshot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24896401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/evergreenshed
Summary: A young club-goer and feminist, Sophie Ervin, is invited to a private party at Justin Bieber's hotel suite in Honolulu. The meeting awakens her sexually, and leads her to question her values and identity. And, Justin's relationship with his best friend, rapper Khalil Sharieff, becomes complicated and intense. [This is a work of fiction, for mature readers over age 18, and all characters depicted in the story are over 18.]Note by the author (pseudonym: evergreenshed) I'm going to 'orphan' this story eventually. I welcome you, wonderful writer, to write Chapter 5 (or beyond) on my behalf. If you write the next part of this story, please indicate this in the Comments so I can find your work.
Relationships: Justin Bieber & Original Female Character(s), Justin Bieber & Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Venue

_Honolulu, August 2017_

He spotted me here at _Venue_ , a small nightclub in a corner of Honolulu frequented by wealthy locals and young tourists. I am here alone to dance, to have a good time and to meet other tourists. Maybe a cute guy if I'm lucky. I'm wearing my favourite dress, which I had picked out of an affordable retail outlet back home in Phoenix: all black, short, low-cut top. I chose comfortable flats for dancing.

Not that it matters, but there is a rumour on the club's Instagram that Justin Bieber is here tonight, hanging out with his jock buddies in the private VIP lounge. I wonder if he is doing the douche-bag thing he is known to do: flashing a bright light on the chicks he wants to take back to his place. He thinks he is the centre of every party he goes to, and is arrogant enough to pick out girls like they're soda cans in a vending machine. 

Anyway, I'm here to have a good time, not to worry about a popstar that may not even be here. 

By 11 pm, the music is blaring and the lights are dizzying. I find a crowd of nice people to dance with, and we are all vibing to the DJ's remix of Rihanna's _Pour It Up_ , when a large, bulky man in a plain black t-shirt waves me over to him.

I figure I did something wrong, and that this man is Venue staff, so I follow him outside to the front entrance of the nightclub. He wears a wide grin as he tells me that _Justin Bieber_ is inviting me to attend a private party at the Waterfront Hotel down the street.

"He thinks you're cute, and he wants to spend some time with you, that's all," said the man who claims to be Justin's bodyguard. "Room 3606 at the _Waterfront_." He passes me a card key.

I must have missed the bright, white light on me when Justin picked me out of the crowd. _What a douche bag._ I almost reject the invitation on this ground alone, but I decide I am not going to miss a chance to hang out with an international star. 

As I walk to the Waterfront, I am fascinated and curious. Is _this real? Is this actually happening?_ I'm a little ashamed to say I find cocky guys like Justin to be very attractive. He's a sexy, famous stud who parties in trendy places and picks out whatever girl, or girl **s** , he pleases. He doesn't worry about getting rejected, and no one can stop him from fucking as many girls as he likes. That kind of macho, dominant attitude, honestly, turns me on. 

I wouldn't tell others that I feel this way, though. 

I would say that I am a strong feminist. I want to see men treat women with respect and dignity. I don't like the idea of being picked out of a crowd, like a peach off of a fruit stand, for an exclusive private party. Curiosity, anticipation, and a four-months-long dry spell leads me to put my feminism aside for a moment. I am already star struck, and I have not even seen him yet. I have goosebumps as I step into the front lobby of the Waterfront.

The elevator bell rings once and quietly as it stops at floor 36. I walk on the black carpet hallway of the hotel floor, and I feel my heart race. I am trembling somewhat, and I have to remember to breathe.

I nod to another one of his bulky, tall bodyguards outside Room 3606, who smiles as if he is expecting me. I swipe the door key, hear the lock release, and slowly open the door.


	2. Room 3606

I walk carefully and quietly into Room 3606. As I close the door behind me, I immediately notice that the suite is small and not fitting for a young and wealthy pop icon. I think my own hotel room only two blocks away is more spacious. I can see little beyond the wall by the entry, but I can make out that there is a bed with a nightstand and a chair in the corner. The burgandy curtains are drawn shut.

I wonder if I am unsafe, or being pranked, but these concerns are alleviated and replaced quickly with awe and surprise as I see him lying on his side on the hotel bed, looking into his phone. _So this is actually happening._

He looks just as cute as his pictures on Instagram. Wearing a tight white T, his muscles pop as he lies there. I can make out his defined pecs through his shirt, and the light bulk of his biceps extending into slender, yet strong, tattooed forearms. His red shorts have a small bulge in the middle, and his lightly muscled thighs turn into golden calves with a smattering of brown hair, before disappearing into his long, sporty white socks.

He places his phone on the nightstand, stands, looks towards me, and I see his eyes look me over. He has an excited look on his face before he even makes eye contact.

_"Hi Justin,"_ I whispered. _"I'm Sophie. Sophie Ervin."_

"Come on in, Sophie, I was waiting for you. I'm glad you decided to come." He is looking at my legs and making his way up to my eyes.

"Damn, you're gorgeous," he exhales, "I hope I didn't steal you from a boyfriend tonight?"

"No, no, he's just back at my hotel, sleeping." _I don't know why I just lied to him. I don't have a boyfriend._

"I'm glad I get to meet you, that's all," I continued, "how are you liking Hawaii?" I sit on the soft, white linen sheets on the corner of the one queen-size bed in the suite. I look up at him, my face flushing red. I am very nervous. There is no one else in the room, and this doesn't look like much of a party.

Justin bites his lower lip and glances at his phone. He doesn't respond to my question.

"Honestly, Sophie," he stands straight and tall, legs far apart, crosses his arms and shrugs, "I just got a text from my manager. I need to finish packing for my flight to Seattle within the hour. I'm going to cut to the chase."

He has a soft, boyish look and sound to him as he says this. He may be blushing, too, as he gestures to the bed. The bulge in his shorts has grown visibly.

"I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." He speaks softly as he walks over to me and bends over to kiss my cheek. My cheek is warm and moist where he planted his soft lips. His voice, and this intimate gesture, calm me somewhat. 

There is no private party. He is just horny, so his guards fetched me at Venue and booked this small, dimly-lit hotel room so he could fuck my holes before his flight.

The feminist in me is alarmed that he would behave with so much entitlement and be so straight-to-the-point. I can tell by where his eyes are going that he doesn't care for much more conversation.

But the girl in me is extremely aroused. She is in heat. This is a real man. A horny, sexy jock who knows what he wants and goes for it. He has big, muscular workers who do what he says. This is the same sporty Justin who plays hockey and soccer with his meathead friends and has the physique to prove it.

The feminist in me has disappeared, forced out by the anticipation of this surreal moment. I immediately know my place and role. He expects me to open my legs for him, no questions asked, and let him fuck my holes. 

As I hear the confidence in his boyish voice, and see the arrogance in his light brown eyes, his tall, lean stature in that room, and his mischievous grin that says 'I'm sorry for being rude, but even though you have a boyfriend, I'm going to pump my cum deep inside you,' I feel wet and ready.


	3. On My Knees

I don't know what I should do next, although I'm not sure he wants me to think at all. After all, I'm here to do what **_he_** wants me to do. His body language makes this very clear.

I've been in 3606 for barely a minute, but mesmerization has revealed this stranger, Justin, to be very important to me. I have never known or met him before, yet I have known him for years. In this surreal moment, I am profoundly confused. 

The heat in my face, my pounding heart, and the wet in my panties make obvious that I am longing for this man. Naturally, I want to show him that I know my place: I want to whimper the words _sir_ and _daddy_ , and I want to beg him to use me. This is all crystal clear. 

The confusion lies in how quickly this has all unfolded. Only a day ago, I was at the company warehouse in Phoenix, where I command the respect of the men and women workers around me. As the _Manager of Supply and Inventory_ , I enjoy being a girlboss. I make a decent living: the job lets me save for college and take spontaneous weekend trips, such as the one I am on right now, now on my knees on the soft carpet of 3606, next to the bed with the linen white sheets.

In just mere seconds, with piercing brown eyes and a determined look, and _I'm going to cut to the chase_ , he said, now shirtless and with his smooth and muscular chest out, wearing proudly the Cross, this King, my King, a stranger I have known forever, has whipped the girlboss out of me. I don't know if I will ever meet her again. 

More confusion. I tremble only slightly as I glance up at him. He hasn't said a word in three minutes. He is on his phone now, by the nightstand, his tall stature turned towards me. 

_If he doesn't touch me soon, I might cry out in pain._ Justin runs his left hand through his slicked-back hair. His thick, tattoed biceps and smooth pecs show sexy definition as he types out a text. 

His shoulders are broad and powerful; his waist is narrow. 

Occasionally, his left hand will journey to the middle of his red shorts, where he will adjust his underwear to make room for the hard, fat bulge pushing the shiny polyester toward me. Or, I watch him as he runs his fingers gently up his happy trail, along his washboard abs, scratching himself as he looks intently into the blue glow of his phone.

 _I can't take this anymore._ His bulge is my responsibility, my obligation, _my duty_. 

On my knees, I crawl over to him. I am ready to be his Queen or his peasant slave, however he will have me. Only inches away from him, I reach out to his ankles. 

_"Sir, please,"_ I whimper as I exhale and nuzzle into his right knee. To serve him with massage, I squeeze his ankles and make my way up the white socks hugging his athletic calves. I run my dainty, soft fingers through the hairs by his knees and on his thighs. As he feels my skin on his own, he puts his phone on the nightstand and stands tall, proudly, with his arms at his side. 

He smiles down at me as I look up at him with my hands on his knees. Beneath his face and neck are his powerful chest and pointed, pink nipples. I feel at home in front of him, close to him. He is warm, and he wears an earthy scent. His cologne has mild notes of grapefruit, or mandarin, maybe cinnamon, I'm not sure. 

" _You're going to be my good little girl tonight, aren't you?"_

I nod but I don't say anything. I don't have the air in me to say anything but whimper and moan. My hands are running up his thighs now, feeling coarse hairs and hard muscles as I inch my way toward his manhood. I close my eyes and nuzzle my face into his hard bulge, and rub my cheeks into the length of his cock, feeling its heat through his jock shorts.

 _"Please, daddy,"_ I beg.


	4. Khalil

_POV: Khalil Sharieff, rapper, Justin's friend_

I knock on the door of Room 3606 at the Waterfront. Justin texted me at least a thousand times asking me to visit him there, so I dropped my game at the Honolulu Casino and raced over. It's a warm evening and the parties are on, drinks are flowing. I'm sweating through a black wife-beater and short-shorts. I'm not sure why Justin is at this small suite at a 4-star hotel.

He cracks open the door just enough for me to see he is wearing nothing except some tight, white undies. He is silent as he pulls me inside. It smells of salt, as if there is a swimming pool in the room.

I turn the corner and see a sexy, dream-like girl on the bed, lying on her back completely naked, legs apart and in the air, knees bent, her pussy wet and facing me. She moans and pants in pleasure, then smiles as she makes eye contact with me. 

_"Hi, I'm Sophie,"_ she winks.

I smile back. _Justin is a fucking beast._

Justin is a bit out of breath himself, as if he just ran a marathon. He supports what he says next with excited hand gestures.

J: Bro, I just _murdered_ this pussy! She is _so fucking tight_ , man! I wish you were here earlier, we could've humped her together for Round 1. 

K: You told me you were flying to Seattle bro?!

J: Cancelled it, my man! You'll understand when you get in on this chick. _Best tits, best ass._

K: Nice, man. But man, _what the hell is that smell_?!

Justin looks apologetic, but grins. He looks at her small tits, raises his arms to push his golden locks back. I glance at his armpit hair and the curves of his muscular torso. I'm trying my best not to peek at the massive boner he is sporting through those tight undies. And, I've always been jealous of those thighs.

Justin gets on the carpet next to the end of the bed, on his knees, right by her pink pussy. He pulls Sophie's legs apart and pushes her knees back. He is aggressive. She giggles. I look down and see the apple shape of his hockey butt, and his muscular, smooth, tanned back. He looks back at me, smiles again, and gestures with his eyes, inviting me to join him. By this point, I am _**rock hard**_. My own boxers are now super uncomfortable.

I'm now on my knees right next to him, with my right calf brushing against his. I can feel his leg hair tangle with my own, as we push our shoulders and arms together, both trying to squeeze into the tight space between her two feet in the air. My dick gets even harder.

Justin reaches over, wraps his tattooed forearms around her waist, and pulls her ass closer to them on the edge of the bed. 

J: " _Let's share, Khalil,"_ he says with his million-dollar smile.

He uses two fingers, his index and middle in a v-shape, to split open her tight folds, revealing pink flesh. A tight hole, a clit. 

I look at him. His eyes are barely a foot away from my own. I can see his tongue moistening his lower lips. With his gentle, brown eyes staring intently at her clit as he massages it with his fingers, he looks thirsty.

I look closer at Sophie's snatch and see where the smell of salt is coming from. Cum. 

Justin's cum, now a clear fluid, is all over her stomach, around her folds, drying slowly. He has already shot his cum all over her. _All over her. So much cum._

This is Round 2.

J: _Yo, Khalil, I'll suck on her clit, you lick her pussy, k?_

K: _Deal._

It takes a second to figure out how to best turn our heads to do this. My tongue is only centimeters away from Justin's, as I lick her hole and folds, lapping up the protein of Justin's cum in the process. My best friend's DNA is delicious. 


End file.
